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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22862215">Kat Among the Pigeons</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DauntlessKilljoy/pseuds/DauntlessKilljoy'>DauntlessKilljoy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Divergent (Movies), Divergent - All Media Types, Divergent Series - Veronica Roth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dauntless Faction, Dauntless Faction Initiation, Gen, Rebellion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 05:48:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>19,512</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22862215</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DauntlessKilljoy/pseuds/DauntlessKilljoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Kat joins Dauntless, she thinks she’s left all of Abnegation behind her, including her father Marcus. Little does she know, things are about to get a lot more complicated, and Marcus isn’t willing to let his little girl get away that easily.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter 1 - Sticks and Stones</p><p>The fact that I'm Divergent seems completely irrelevant , especially in comparison to all my other issues. And I have a lot of issues. They are generally the core of my existence, with other particles just drifting, guided by their force. But the test administrator sends me home early anyway, something that doesn't really enthuse me; why would it?</p><p>I trail the city, not wanting to return to the Abnegation sector, to return to my 'home'. Because it's not my home; a home is somewhere you belong, not somewhere you fear. My small feet carry me forward. Nowhere in particular. Just around. Buildings towering over me; wide reflective windows, muddy tracks, cracked pavement. Rain darkens the colours of the city. Makes it drab - dark - pockets of water clinging to glass. Slipping down. Dripping into puddles. I avoid the factionless sector - the Abnegation are sometimes there; I don't want to see them - and the Erudite for that matter. I don't have to visit her anymore. Not unless I choose Erudite. But at least staying with my mother is better than staying with him. She works long hours. I barely ever see her. She has less time to inflict pain upon me. But she still fits it into her already crammed schedule.<br/>
Scraping the toe of my boot against the floor. Dragging myself through the streets. Brushing my hand against the walls as I walk. I avoid everywhere I'll be seen and recognised; pulled apart and tortured all over again. It's cowardly, I know. But I can't avoid him forever. </p><p>Murky water splashes against my boots, disrupting the puddles left by the morning's rain. The smell of it still on the pavements. I pause. Wait for the water to settle. And try to catch a glimpse of myself against the ripples, a habit of mine since I was little; more innocent that attempting to pry open the sealed compartment hiding our mirror. My face pale and milky, the purple eye from a week ago faded. Mousy hair pulled back tight, into a typical bun. Hated by me. It's never straight, but never curly or wavy or anything else that makes it look half decent. Big eyes. Round. Scared. The walls built up around them crumbling as I near the Abnegation sector. Like the roads, crumbling because we're so selfless and therefore don't need a decent living standard. </p><p>The house is still. Silent but not empty. The calm before the storm, as I've come to think of it. The time I'm tensest; waiting for the blow, for the hit. I know it will come, it's just how long I have to expect it to come. He sees me as I pass the defunct living room and beckons. A shiver runs involuntarily down my spine. Goosebumps of ice blue cold.<br/>
"Sit. "<br/>
I sit. Tentatively; close to the seat edge; easier to get up that way, to escape. Not that I would. He's too strong. Too powerful. He could catch me easily, stop me, bring me back. I would never be able to escape his wrath. His eyes are dark; the end of the darkness unfathomable. Hooked nose; dark, greying hair like a swipe of granite. Harsh, and unfamiliar. Ready to inflict punishment on the unworthy and shamed. The head of our faction and of the council. Maybe it's normal for children to be afraid of their parents. Maybe it's normal for parents to beat their children senseless. Or maybe he's just above everyone else; considering himself God, capable of inflicting punishment as he sees fit. I look somewhere between his thick brows, back straight.<br/>
" So,"<br/>
His eyes bore deep, looking through the glass that is me.<br/>
"What was you test result?" His words are clipped, detached; and I remember her words, careful with caution, as she told me my result.<br/>
"Abnegation. "<br/>
My pulse rate heightens, my mouth dry. I should have been Candor for all I could lie to him for, but then, a Candor wouldn't lie. His expression remains placid. But the eyes flash. It's like rubbing two blades together when I'm near him. Sparks fly, and the pain becomes sharper.<br/>
"I'll ask once more," his voice that facade of patience and polite. But I know it by now. Know I'm on weak ground. Know it will crumble beneath me if I don't escape. But I can't. I won't.<br/>
" What was your result?"<br/>
I swallow the non-existant saliva stuck in my throat. Black spots flicker on the edge of my peripheral vision, hands tremble.<br/>
"Abnegation. "<br/>
"Liar. "<br/>
The snarl is ripped from his teeth, a beast, uncaged when no eyes are watching. He lunges with vigor. Reactions fast, my arms fly up in protection, but their result is minimal. The first fist crashes through my jaw, the second not far behind. He's not a boxer, knows nothing of the jabs and punches that a Dauntless does. But years of practice have taught him where to hit to cause the most pain. Taught him that I don't fight back. And I don't think the other boy did either. The one who was never supposed to see me. The one my life revolved around avoiding. Because if we'd met properly. If we joined together, we could have rebelled. We could have fought back; because us against him would have meant we had a chance. But I don't have that chance. Not any more. We never had that chance.<br/>
Tears sting my lacrimal glands, pooling in the corners of my eyes. Saltwater green and misty. But they don't run. They don't. </p><p>Pain streaks my face in the sharp motion, hand shaped imprint left. He has left many a mark on me; these impressions. I cry out unintentionally; the sound leaves my mouth of its own accord. Stiff Abnegation boots strike my calfs, sending me sinking to the floor in submission, curled in a fetal ball of protection, face and chest tucked in, shielded the most. But the anticipated hale-storm of kicks doesn't come.<br/>
"Get up. " His voice rough. Chalkboard nails.<br/>
I comply, shoulders twitching, facing the wall. Body steeled for the war about to be raged. Except its not a war, not really; a war would have to have two fighting sides. But this does not. This is just him inflicting pain again and again and again.<br/>
I wonder how this reflects my test result: Standing here taking it - cowardice. Not thinking of an alternate route - ignorance. Doing something up provoke him - selfishness. </p><p>The copper snake against the grey. It strikes, teeth biting into flesh. The pain a torrent of fire; a raging inferno. It comes, again and again, each time more than the last. It relishes in pain, fear, torment; coming back hungry, never receiving enough to quench its thirst. The world rocks through tribulation, black spots everywhere. Maybe the kraken's coming. That would be consolation. Then I could die. It would be quick. The pain would finally end.<br/>
"That teaches you to learn from your mistakes. " The sound richots through my ear, disorientated and muddled due to the pounding of the men in my skull. The men trying to get out, to tear me apart from the inside.</p><p>His belt hits again, but I'm already halfway to the floor; halfway to darkness; halfway to atataxis.<br/>
My world goes black.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Blood</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It’s Choosing Day, and Kat (aka Theresa) already knows which faction she’s going to pick. But will Marcus try and stop her?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The wall is grey. The pain red. Red and Black. I turn, pain searing my back; grey bodice sticking. Sitting up causes the room to spin, stomach biting at the flesh. Hunger. I don't need up check the lock to discover if I'm incarcerated. I already know. </p><p>The bleeding has stopped; now my back is missing strips of skin, of flesh. There's no need of a mirror to see the dark bruise forming on my jaw, the purple framing my eye. Attempting to breathe steady. I have nothing to aid my injuries other than my broken torn up mind. But it's just another night. Another night pretending I'm a ray of light. Instead, I know I'm a broken candle. </p><p>My watch tells me it's been 2 hours. Only 15 left until I have to choose. My breathing quickens, but I know what I've got to do; it will be fine. I set my alarm for 6.30; I will need to shower, and from previous experience I know it will take me a good half hour. Then I let the pain enclose me, and I fall again. </p><p>He walks me to the Hub. Early. That way no one will make the connection. The link. We take the stairs, like the selfless people we are, even though there's no one there to take the lift. Then we separate. No one can see us together, and I'd rather leave now. </p><p>I see her. Jeanine Matthews. Pale eyes icy, she nods; I look down. No eye contact, that's the best way; it doesn't anger the beast. I sit outside the door; waiting, waiting, waiting, before I go in. The room is half empty still, but navigation isn't that hard. Especially when Ella's waving at me and jumping up and down like a lunatic. Sinaya comes round too, and we hug. It's the only thing that can enlighten me, show the light at the end of this tunnel. But that tunnel ends. Now. </p><p>Places taken. Me alone, waiting for eternity. Then he's on stage. Marcus. Followed by the first initiate; the next; the next. Callie. Her lose tall, head high. Certain. Small cut, blood on the coals. Dauntless. I hear the sobs to my left, tears on the blue, but I don't turn. Nobody will cry for me. </p><p>Ella's up. Bounce in her step, brown hair tousled and restrained by an enormous bow. Yellow. The colour of sunshine; the colour if happiness. She chooses darkness all the same: Dauntless. </p><p>"Black, Theresa. " His eyes flicker. Anonymous name, anonymous me. It means almost nothing - almost - however it's still traceable. But I still get up, heart pounding, back in torment. Palm cut, eyes averted, I don't feel the pain. Not in my hand anyway. Windows stare at my injuries. The ones not hidden, on my face. I keep my windows down, so they can't see into my soul. The coals hiss.<br/>
New blood to kindle their fire. </p><p>He makes a threatening noise in the back of his throat, just loud enough for me to hear. A cross between a snarl and a shout. She merely stares. I look down, counting the scuffs on my boots, the hem of my dress fraying. Not watching the rest, I don't want to; I'd have to look up, look at him. The tired lines around his ears, the anger marks of his mouth. The tiny scar above his left eyebrow where someone once lashed back.<br/>
However, I do register the others choosing; my watch of grey tumbling to the floor. An act of defiance.</p><p>Regrouping is simple, we just look for the head above all heads. Jude is virtually taller than anyone else in the room , so I run to her, to my friends; he can't hurt me there.<br/>
2 Candor, 1 Erudite, 1 Amity, 1 me. Now all Dauntless. Initiates. We laugh in triumph, running. Running with the rest. Pushed forward by the crowd, ignoring the pain as it throbs. The train expects us to jump on. I know it does; I'd seen them do it long before this day. I'm already running as the train comes into view. Already lifting myself in. The others follow, stumbling, grabbing. Jude reaches out, her arms the longest, grabbing Ella by the wrist as her legs give way. </p><p>The platform ends in a crumbling mass twenty feet below, Ella still hanging out, so close to Death we can almost touch it, caress it, hold it dear. We pull. Four against one. Harder than it sounds, especially with gravity the opponent. </p><p>We all tumble back into the carriage, like a massive pile-on with Sinaya at the bottom. Laughing. Surely that experience would have anyone crying, showed beyond belief - were they trying to kill us? - but we just lie there laughing. Like a bunch of idiots as everyone stares at us. </p><p>I hear shouts from carriages further in front, my ears accustomed to noticing the slightest sound, the slightest movement, anything to give me a hint of the future; to prepare me. I perceive things about other people; not really knowing about myself. Like how Ella always blinks twice when she doesn't understand something, and the Dauntless girl in my English has a nervous twitch in her mouth. </p><p>I get up from my spot on the floor and peer out in front without explaining myself to the others, they know me well enough now to trust my instincts. I nearly fall out from what I can see: The Dauntless are jumping. Out of the train and onto the roof opposite, with a metre abyss in between.<br/>
"Er, guys?" I say, turning round "They're jumping off. "<br/>
All at once there's a stampede of elephants around me as they crane to see.<br/>
"What the fuck..." Sinaya's loud voice is clear above the high winds.<br/>
"We've got to as well then. " Callie says in her non-nonsense way of Erudite.<br/>
"What if we fall?" Ella speaks up, and all at once, silence.<br/>
"We die. " I say when no one else answers.<br/>
"Then we better not. " Sinaya says so fiercely we're all laughing again. </p><p>The building's coming up now. Fast.<br/>
"Ready?" Callie says, having determined the exact times we should all jump to gain the maximum chance of landing on the roof. Surviving.<br/>
"Go!" Jude leaps, she has the farthest to go, but also the longest legs, so her chances are still fair. The train speeds on, and without waiting to see if she made it, Sinaya goes, then Ella. I nod at Callie and she vaults too, leaving me to hurtle out after her, praying and hoping the building hadn't already ended; not that I doubted Callie’s superior intellect.<br/>
I sense the wind against my face, hear Hope’s shout, feel like a bird, before my wings break and hit gravel. </p><p>Pain richots across my back in crashing tides, the flesh open again. But I'm already up and quickly running to the edge, trying not to go under; to drown.<br/>
There are three bodies. Three puddles of red. And three people who toyed with Death and lost. A lump forms in my throat. Dauntless - members and initiates alike - crowd round, and the new splashes of colour stifle sobs. The darkness don't, they're stronger than that. I attempt to conceal a sigh of relief. My friends are alive. For now. </p><p>"Initiates!" I swivel round into the glare of the sun, making out a silhouette against the sky. We jog over to the, I would say man, but up close he's not much older than us really. Tattoos dominate his strong neck, coiling round his wrist. Face pierced so many times he looks like a cyborg, but still young. </p><p>"My name's Eric. I'm one of the leaders of the Dauntless. And of you." He lets this sink in, casually stepping back onto the roof ledge as if it was no big deal, as if he'd done it multiple times before.<br/>
It was a big deal.<br/>
"Down there is your way into Dauntless. Fail to muster to courage to jump, and We. Don't. Want. You. " He steps down; the Dauntless were never ones for elaborate speeches, leaving space for us to see:<br/>
Nothing. I can see, nothing. Just a black abyss containing the unknown. Containing everything. Containing something. Everything consists of something. It was just the problem of figuring out what. </p><p>Eric takes centre stage again, piercing a glinting.<br/>
"Initiates have the honour of going first. " Teeth flash in the light, I can see the ones he's replaced.<br/>
"What's at the bottom?" Jude wants to know. " I'm not jumping unless I know exactly what I'm getting myself into. " Her forehead glistens with swear and it looks like she's trying not to pass out. Eric turns his cold expression to her.<br/>
"Then I guess you'll never know. " Turning back to the rest of us, eyes smirking.<br/>
"Who's first?" Voice ringing out, only sound the wind. People around me look at the ground, shuffle awkwardly, minds work fast.<br/>
"Me. " I say a little louder than intentioned, stepping forward to glance over the edge before retreating. </p><p>Eric's expression is weird, almost curious.<br/>
"Hey Stiff. " a voice calls out, and I turn on my heel. " We all know you're not really brave, just being a Stiff because no one wants to fall first and you're so selfless. " He spits the last word, his taunt hanging in the air. And for once, I have the perfect comeback when it's needed, not 5 minutes later when I'm walking away.<br/>
"Hey, Jerk. " I call over to him. "Who says I'm gonna fall?"<br/>
I start running towards the edge, towards oblivion.<br/>
" I'm gonna jump. " and I leap into open-space.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Loose Lips Sink Ships</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Initiation has started, but who will jump first?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They probably think there's something wrong with me; hurtling towards the ground at who knows how many metres per second, and I'm not screaming. Silent. Frozen as the silent stars go by. Fear. It does strange things to people. But they're right. There probably is something wrong with me </p><p>The net hits me. Hard. And I just lie there in a trance, releasing a long staggering breath. Light streams down in flickers and I can make out profiles of the others leaning over the roof. I let out a manic laugh inside my head, my vocal chords still too twisted to allow me to speak. I'd jumped. I'd actually jumped. </p><p>"You alive up there?" I hear someone shout up to me, followed by a short laugh from a different direction. I twist onto my side before getting up, pinpricks across my back. The net is difficult to walk across, but I manage - I've had worse - and drop up the floor, ignoring the calloused hand reaching to help me. Everything comes with price. And I don't want that price. </p><p>Looking down on me is a young man, scrutinising, and I can tell he is hot despite my Abnegationanity, but I don't like him, not in that way. His gaze drifts over my bruised face, taking in its cuts and colour, and opens his mouth to speak -<br/>
"Did you fall Stiff?" A shout comes from the same direction as the laugh.<br/>
"Shut up, Alec. " the man in front of me calls back, his mouth twitching. Then to me, voice lower, still loud<br/>
"Why did you jump?"<br/>
I glance up at his heavily guarded face, then down again. Quickly. Surprised. He'd said jump, not fall; but I had jumped. So that was only right. My hands twist themselves together, agitated.<br/>
"Erm... Well, I guess... because no one else wanted to, and I figured that you wouldn't want to kill all your new initiates, especially the bravest who would probably go first..." I trail off, worried about his reaction to my cowardice. "And... I thought that I might as well start facing my fear now, rather than later. "</p><p>I risk a glance up and am surprised by his irises. The coloured pigment of the eye which refuses to let light pass through. They're dark, really dark blue, with a lighter section closer to the pupil. Like mine. </p><p>"Heights?" He asks, referring to my fear.<br/>
"Falling."<br/>
"Aren't they the same?" The guy, Alec, shouts again and I turn towards him.<br/>
"No." The voice rings out at the same time as mind, and I look at him, curious. He just shrugs. </p><p>I wait for him to tell me what to do, but instead his hand reaches forward. I shrink back, afraid. For a moment I see him as Marcus. See Marcus in a place be cannot be. Or maybe it's the contact with another human I'm afraid of. His hand brushes my hair lightly, despite my obvious reaction.<br/>
"What reason does an Abnegation have for wearing an Erudite clip?" His voice is detached, but his question nearly stops my heart, my hand reaching for the little blue grip pinning my fringe back.<br/>
"No reason. " His disbelief is clear. Maybe it's not just Marcus who sees me as a window.<br/>
"What's your name?"<br/>
My breathing's fast now, uneven, and I just shrug, tearing my eyes away from his piercing gaze. I will need to warn my friends I'm not telling this guy my name, however anonymous it may be.<br/>
"Who are your parents?" His voice stern now, almost angry. I wonder how many disrespectful Abnegations he's had to deal with.<br/>
"No one important. " It comes out too high, and he looks at me almost funnily. I shouldn't have said anything. I shouldn't have.<br/>
"I'll take that as a 'yes, my parents are important people who you probably know. '"<br/>
He frowns, piecing it together. Hands twist. I hope it breaks apart.<br/>
"Jeanine Matthews. " I fail at trying not to react, the hands trembling. " and..." He shakes his head, attempting to ward off unwanted thoughts. </p><p>Extending his hand, bruises patch the knuckles.<br/>
"I'm Four. I'll be your instructor. "<br/>
I take it, gingerly, not wanting to squeeze too hard, or hold on for too long. The gesture seems foreign to him too; seeming uncomfortable. Lifting my hand in the air,<br/>
"First Jumper!" Cheering erupts from the shadows as a screeching Dauntless-born crashes into the net.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Band-Aids Don’t Fix Bullet Holes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dauntless Initiation Training has begun, but will Kat be able to keep up with everyone else?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The dorm is Co-Ed. So is the bathroom. Great. Just great. That means we're with the boys. Something people like Callie don't have to worry about just based on how they look. But it makes me feel self-conscious. Very self-conscious. </p><p>I let Sinaya take the top bunk. I wouldn't be able to sleep there anyway, and we change. Luckily I've mastered the art of changing discreetly, so no one notices my back. At least, no one mentions it. My face is getting some weird looks though. But suddenly I look the same as everyone else. Black jeans, black jacket, black top. Fine by me. Ella still has her yellow bow, refusing to remove it. She's stubborn like that. I pull my hair out of its tight bun so it falls in kinks, hiding my face. Now no one can call me a Stiff. I look the same as them. </p><p>Four leads the way to the Pit, which, true to its name, is basically a cavity in the centre of Dauntless, teeming with life. Light streams in through the glass roof, and I reckon we're in the 'deserted' part of the city. The far end is crammed with long tables. Full of Dauntless members. "The Cafeteria. " Four announces before walking off. </p><p>There are no empty tables and few empty seats. Jude, Callie, Ella, Sinaya, me. We sit crowded in with the black, a boldly tattooed man to my left. I can barely tell if any of the other initiates are around me; the black sucks everything away, and yet, everyone is unique. Even me.<br/>
Callie, ever to schedule, brings up what we agreed.<br/>
"Aptitude results, go. "<br/>
"Candor."<br/>
"Erudite."<br/>
"Erudite."<br/>
"Amity."<br/>
"Abnegation."<br/>
Heads turn towards me, surprised. I try not to blush. Although we mostly came out with the result of our original faction, they find it weird that I'm still that. I don't blame them.<br/>
"Oi, you lot!" I hadn't noticed Four sit down a few seats along. Casual. Arms crossed over his stomach. "You're Dauntless now. " We grin. Highfive. And secretly, I'm glad he distracted them. Even if they are my friends. The closest thing I have to family. </p><p>The next day starts at 7. With Four attempting to teach us how to shoot. Attempting. I like it. It makes me feel powerful; especially after I hit the bullseye on the fifth try. I hold someone's life in my hands. I could shoot them through the head before they even knew what happened. My aim's good but I'm not like that.<br/>
Ella's not so lucky; she ends up nearly shooting herself in the foot quite a few times. And Four's head. I wouldn't be surprised if she's trying to kill him. The same goes for Jude, but for the opposite reason: the gun's too small in her big hands, it looks like a toy. </p><p>Eric smiles at me when I hit the bullseye. It's unnerving. The way he seems to be smirking and cawing at someone else's defeat. I reload the gun. Fire. It's not until he calls out that I realise that's exactly what he's doing.<br/>
"Hey, Four! Seems like you're not so unique after all. " He jabs his thumb at me. Heat clouds my cheeks. "Abnegation and good at shooting. I wonder which Stiff's better?" His tone is scornful. Mocking. And I can tell Four will rise to the challenge. And for all the Dauntless 'freedom', it doesn't look like I have much of a choice in the matter.<br/>
"Stiff! In front of the target now! Everyone else behind me!" My friends' faces are worried. Excited. Encouraging. They believe in me. I stand where he gestured, uncertain. Four follows. Face set. </p><p>"3 bullets each, lets see what first in his class can do against a vulnerable Abnegation girl." Palms start to sweat as confusion sets in. Does he wants us to shoot each other? Surely that's a little drastic? He steps back, and a small smile plays at the corners of Four's mouth, despite his annoyance.<br/>
"Stiff's first. " Gun hanging at his side. Safety off. Finger on the trigger. I stand still. Shell-shocked. Four nods to the target. Swallowing hard, I raise the gun. My gun. I fire once, my hands suddenly calm. It hits the middle. Friends erupting into cheers.<br/>
Four. His stance that of a fighter. One eye shut, veins protruding along his arm. The shot breaks the muttering. Centre. Like mine. I look to him for confirmation, but he doesn't look at me. His competition. </p><p>Second bullet's the same. For both of us. I can see Eric's goading Four as I raise my gun. Four's got that look in his eye. The 'Marcus' look. The one which warns everyone that he's about to lose it. Lose everything. Only I can see it. Only I know.<br/>
I fire. The bullet hits the wall and reflects, bouncing back at Eric. Hurtling even. He steps out of the way as it pushes past him, smirk still in place. Like he knows what I did.<br/>
"Sorry. " I shrug. As if I lost control. I had perfect control. For once.<br/>
"The Dauntless don't say sorry. " Four releases the trigger. Bam. Dead centre.<br/>
"I guess you win. " Eric shrugs. I retreat, not wanting to be a part of this. Of whatever's between them. He stops smiling.<br/>
"Get back to work. " We stand there disconcerted.<br/>
" Back to work!" And we scatter.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Dead Inside</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Physical fights have started, but Kat isn’t feeling well; will she manage to pull through?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eric says work, but that doesn't really go well when everyone's shooting me weird looks and he reduces a Dauntless guy to tears. In the end he storms out. A Thunder Cloud. At least the torrential rain has stopped.<br/>
Four leads the way back to the Pit. Me at the back. My friends still quite quiet after Eric's outburst. As if sensing something might crash at any minute. I'm used to it, not that they know that. But honestly I'm terrified. I'd come here to escape, but if Eric did that in every training session...</p><p>I don't each lunch. Afraid of throwing up. Nervous anticipation claws my stomach like an uncaged animal. Plus it's steak and burgers. Not nice. No matter how much the initiates try to convince me otherwise. </p><p>The privilege of being able to look in the mirror whenever I want is both a burden and a blessing. It means I finally know what I look like. What I look like now and not just on the second day of every third month. I could stand here all day, planning how I could look. Blue hair, or green. Cropped short, layered to give it body. Piercings covering my face, tattoos mapping every inch of my skin until I am a piece of art. Until I am beautiful in a completely unique and abstract way. </p><p>But my back still bleeds at night; smearing the sheets with scarlet. The incisions still marking it, a reminder. Of my mistakes. Of what I had become.<br/>
My face slowly turns a gothic rainbow; of blues and night and dusk and darkness. And we haven't even started body combat yet. Just running and shooting. Training and punchbags.<br/>
We started on the fourth day. </p><p>"Everybody over here!" Four's shout pierces my headache, sending orange rust and sparks flitting across my vision. Orange, the colour of pain, spurring from my eyes. Leaving the punchbag swinging, suspended just above the floor, I jog over. Each step a meticulous thud against my skull. Thud. Thud. Thud. Stop. By the time I reach the crowd I'm about to pass out. Heaviness weighing me down, trying not to drown. I slump against Jude for support. Room spinning.<br/>
"This is the Score Board. You will be ranked, based on your ability here at Dauntless. First at physical, then mental, and finally against fear. " I close my eyes briefly, blackness engulfing me, bring bittersweet relief. That dark abyss of relief. There's something funny about the board, but I can't work it out. Don't have the energy to.<br/>
"Currently you're all equal, but that will change now, depending on your fights. Who you fight, if you win, how quickly. " he surveys is, gaze pausing on my frail state. "Clear?" I try to breathe slowly, not to vomit all over the guy in front.<br/>
"Anyone below 20 at the end of stage 1 will be cut. "</p><p>That stops the breathing. Cut? That makes all the difference. Not that I expected it to be otherwise. The Dauntless weren't like the Amity; kind and caring enough to protect everyone who passed through their doors. So I will have to dig. Deep. I want this. I'm not sure I can do it though. Especially in this state. My opponent will be lucky if I can make it to the ring without passing out. Orange streaks my vision. </p><p>"First pair: Em versus Jude. " He smiles knowingly as he says it, like he can already guess the outcome. I force myself to stand properly so Jude can fight, a weak smile my good luck symbol. Em is the girl with the nervous twitch, but at the moment she seems as comfortable as ever. Smirking and cracking her knuckles as if this is going to be the easiest thing in the world. Pale blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. Pink and green streaks intertwined. </p><p>"What does she think she's got going for herself?" The guy in front of me mutters to a Dauntless-born with a mullet, obviously scowling at Em. Mullet Head's shoulders start to shake as he turns to face the other initiate. Laughter.<br/>
"She's the faction head's step-sis, you stupid slut, she could beat the shit outta you before you even knew what's coming. " Mullet Head punches him in the stomach before stalking off. The guy in front doubled over in pain. The whole thing would have been hilarious, but I didn't have energy for laughter. And those punches hurt. </p><p>Em had given up sparring Jude, face hardened. Ready for battle. Punch to the stomach, hand stiffened into a fist. Despite being almost the same size, Jude's uncoordinated limbs make her defence too slow for the strike, landing squarely in her torso. Yelping back, winded. Arms protecting middle, the cuff to her jaw unprotected. She ducks too late. Her height giving her a disadvantage as the fist slams into her nose, splattering blood across her face. Em takes a step back, not an unfair fighter. Jude wipes blood from her face, taking a wild swing. Momentum throwing her forward, Em's dodge too short, she a crashes into the other girl. The faction head's step-sister uses this against her, twisting her into a headlock; punching, kicking with alternate limbs. I almost cry out, but can't. Vocal chords too tight, the orange having reached there too. </p><p>Em releases the asphyxiating Jude to the floor, standing over her as she struggles to regain breath. Heaving.<br/>
"Em is the winner. " Four announces, high-fiving the blonde girl before altering the Scoreboard. Em in the lead. 2 points. </p><p>"Next, Aaron V Kane..." I relax, thankful it's not one if my friends. Thankful it's not me. Guilty as they rush off to help Jude. Pain. Pain. More pain.<br/>
I don't watch Aaron and whoever he's fighting. Don't see the punches, the blood. The sickening thuds the backing music to my symphony of torment. Violins plucked too tight too hard, crashing chords, pounding against my cranium. Not registering the thump of body on floor, winner's name announced. I know I should be watching, observing, noting flaws, using weaknesses, but... back throbs. Pain...</p><p>"Ella versus Pelican. " Ella. I force my eyes open, take in Four's smirk at her opponent's name. It's Mullet Head. Crap. Crap, crap crap. Helpless. Surely it's unfair to have a Dauntless-born facing a sweet Amity girl first time round? And what sort of name is Pelican? It's not like he can fly or anything. Not like he can reach 3000 metres altitude.<br/>
Ella moves into the ring. Scared. But then Mullet Head, Pelican, whatever he's called, sticks out his hand. A truce.<br/>
"Don't take it personally. " he mutters. Sincere. As though he knows the pairing's unfair. Knows he's going to hurt her. Wants her to know he doesn't mean it. </p><p>Ninety seconds later, Ella's on her back for the third time; grunting in pain; struggling to regain composure. Pelican's face a frown. Like he wants to get this over with quickly. There is no honour in beating up a little girl. Her pain adds to my own, silently begging for him to end it. Stop her suffering. Now. Before she's even up to her full stature he throws a punch - the punch - cracking against her nose, sending her tumbling down. Again. Like one of those potato sacks in Amity. And on the floor she stays. For about five seconds before Pelican's down beside her, testing her pulse, ordering people to help him carry her to the Infirmary. A point appears next to his name, and my friends continue to lose out. </p><p>Sinaya changes our luck by beating a tall guy with shaggy blonde hair, sending him to the Infirmary with a broken nose. At least Ella will have company. 2 points.<br/>
Then two Amity boys spend ten minutes throwing such gentle punches, Four throws them out of the ring. They'd have both been dead in a real fight he says.<br/>
The nausea starts to leave, swallowed down by a bunch of starving nerves. </p><p>"Cilla versus Kat. " I open my eyes. Four's staring right at me. Pointedly. Sternly. As in 'get your stupid arse over here-ly'. Only one other person is moving. Is she Cilla? Or Kat? Confusion sets in. I'm neither. I'm sure of that. Four usually just refers to me as Stiff. Why would that change? Why now? That's when I realise. The board. It doesn't have my name on. It doesn't say Theresa Black. It doesn't say Stiff either. Not sure what I'd expected. It does have Cilla though. And Kat. Kat. If that's me I'll be almost as bad as Pelican. At least that had some creativity behind it. </p><p>I move, each step an earthquake, until I reach the ring. I have to do this. I need to do this. I can't afford to lose. Not now. Not after everything. Her dark hair pulled into an elaborate braid down her back. Red lips pursed. Like a murder of crows, we circle. One step forward, two steps back. Attack; defend. Neither provoking the other, not yet. Then she lunges, like a lioness in for the kill. Incentive throwing her into me, knocking us to the floor. Her on top. Striking my face again and again. Sunset swarms. I need to fight back. I can't let her win. I refuse to be beaten. No more. I tell myself. No more. </p><p>I'm no longer me. I'm the haunt of my nightmares, of my life. Hollow eyes, no pity. The empty anger. But anger all the same. Yank my arm free in one quick movement. Teeth bared, rip them into her flesh at the next punch. Howls of terror. Aim for the throat. Aim for the jaw. The nose. Reverse positions. Knee to stomach. Savage with incite. To cause pain. To see blood drawn. Her flesh gives under my kneecap, sinking back into he stomach. Breath forced out of her mouth. She's stopped fighting back, but I have to be certain. The blood in my ears insist so. I draw back one final punch, ready to - a hand clamps around my elbow, stopping the lash. But all at once the desire's gone; the anger, gone. Four's eyes pierce mine as I get up, ashamed. As if the hatred was merely a charge, as if now it's been drained, passed on to him. </p><p>The girl manages to stand, hobbling off to the side. Guilt obscures my face.<br/>
"Kat wins. " Four mutters, eyes glinting with something unfamiliar.<br/>
Vermillion multitude. Infest. Invade. Taking over every particle of every cell of every atom. I collapse backwards into something, spiralling down into oblivion. I'm gone before I hit the bottom.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Just So You Know, Death is Green</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The second round of fights has started, but then disaster strikes.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Buzzing. A swarm of bees. A haze of peach, hanging over me. Realisation hits like the smell of violets. Sickly sweet. I won. I actually won. But I lost it... I lost the plot, and I can't come back from that. Hating myself. I could have done it in a way that makes me less like him. And for once I feel the need to go back to that Abnegation box. Feel the crack of the whip against my shoulder blades.<br/>
Because he was right.<br/>
I am a bad person.<br/>
And I need to be punished. </p><p>I try to get up, get out, but the nurse pushes me back into the bed. Telling me I can't leave the Infirmary for a bit. The symphony mostly gone, replaced by a metallic hum in the background. I feel better physically. Mentally, self-hatred consumes every part of me; gnawing away. The nurse leaves through a door to my right, not elaborating, and I sit up, look around. Ella's not here. I take that as a good sign, that she's recovered and okay. The shaggy haired guy is though, lying to my left, groaning. Seeing me studying, he sits up, face crunched up with pain. Cast covering his nose.<br/>
"Broken nose?" I ask, before he can accuse me of staring.<br/>
"Yeah. That girl's got one fierce punch. "<br/>
"Sinaya. "<br/>
"Who?" His eyebrows pucker as if he's confused.<br/>
"Sinaya. " I repeat.<br/>
"Ohh. The girl with the long hair, right. I'm Carrick. "<br/>
"Kat. " I answer after a moments hesitation. After Four's obvious decision, it wasn't like I had much choice but to go with the name. Surprise flickers, music of resentment in his eyes.<br/>
"The girl who beat up Cilla then fainted?"<br/>
"I guess..."<br/>
Neither of us speak after that, awkwardness like fog in the air. </p><p>Four breaks our silence, leaning against the door frame as if he'd been there the whole time. Clears his throat, alerting the three initiates here.<br/>
"Second round of fights starts in ten minutes. " I hear Carrick suppress a groan next to me, unenthusiastic with pain. "However, you have a choice. You can either come and fight, or forfeit. But if you forfeit, your opponent automatically wins." Carrick sighs with relief. Collapses back into his pillow.<br/>
"Choices?" Four asks, sounding bored.<br/>
I get up, feeling my back pull tight, but not with the usual pain. Grateful the nurse left me in my training clothes, and didn't change me into a disgusting hospital robe whilst unconscious. The girl on the other side of Carrick also stands. Muttering. Something about checking her opponent first. Hobbles out the door. I follow. Then Four.<br/>
"Kat. "<br/>
"Yes?" I remember not to mumble, but don't turn. I don't want that pain.<br/>
"The nurse said to tell you, you had concussion. " Waiting for me to expand, explain. Silence. Best strategy. "And that she gave you stitches, so to be careful." Continue to walk. Possibly a little faster. Definitely a little faster. Escape. How much has she guessed? How much has she told him?<br/>
"Kat. " I still don't turn. "Kat!" I turn when he grabs my shoulder. Pulling away. Instinct kicking in. It's not intentional, but anyone touching me without permission reminds me of him. Of Marcus.<br/>
"Care to explain?" His question shouldn't have hit me too hard, but it was a punch. To the kidneys. I raise my eyes to his before evading capture.<br/>
"No. "</p><p>Since it's the second round, the fights are listed next to the Score Board.<br/>
Kat Vs Em<br/>
That's good. Better than anticipated. I know what I'm going to do before the thought's fully fledged in my mind. Before I even see Jude's head. I stalk up silently from behind, scaring the life out of Ella when I boop her on the head.<br/>
"Aahhh - oh my god, you're okay!" The others crowd round as they notice me too.<br/>
"We thought you were dead. "<br/>
I grin, Four locked in a box at the back of my mind for now. "Not today. It was just concussion. "<br/>
"From what?" Jude asks, concerned.<br/>
"The fight, I guess. " I shrug, used to lying like this. But Callie looks at me weirdly.<br/>
"What?"<br/>
She looks embarrassed, but the pink doesn't paint her cheeks.<br/>
"Nothing, it's just I didn't see you get hit in the head. Plus, concussion usually takes longer to manifest itself. A few hours at the very least. "<br/>
Curse the Erudites. I shrug. Again. My usual response to these comments. Four stands in the ring. Staring right at me. Arms crossed, muscles hardened.<br/>
"We will be running two fights simultaneously today, so not to waste my time. Same rules apply. Ring 1, Ella versus Micah. Ring 2, Cilla versus Callie. " Wishing both my friends luck. Spreading belief like sunshine. They both lost yesterday. It hangs over them, a dark cloud of palatinate streaked with blue. But today is a new day. A crisp new dawn of a sycamore leaf. We part, Jude towards ring 2, Sinaya and I towards 1. </p><p>Micah. One of the Amity boys Four chucked out yesterday. Dark skin glowing with sunlight, despite the darkness. Recognition passes through his eyes as he sees Ella. Gold glinting with chocolate. Smooth and rich. Its barely melted when Ella throws a punch to his stomach, winding him. Surprised by her own actions; she hadn't seen his pitiful half-fight yesterday. Gripping his stomach with one hand, swinging a punch with the other. Out of control. Ella stumbles out of the way, catching the tip of his knuckles to send her off balance. Knees breaking her fall. Micah aims a soft kick at her torso, but his pause gives Ella enough time to gather her wits. Arms wrapped around his knees, breaking stability. Tumbling backwards, black soles striking Ella's face. Orange gasp. Black cornrows hitting the floor. A bomb goes off inside my head, blinding me with with shards of colour. Carmine splinters lock themselves in place. Perinone acid spilling over, annihilating everything in its path. </p><p>I push. Against the tide. Against the tyrant current drowning me, pulling me under. The red suffocating me. Filling nose, mouth, ears. Streaming in through my eyes, perpetrating my vision. I struggle to draw breath, hands pressed against ears, clutching the sides of my head. But I swim. Towards land. Rebelling against the force. Breaking through the pain to see a crowd around its source. Micah. Lying on his back, blood pooling from his head. Tears flood down from Becky's eyes, Hope enveloping her in a hug. Protective. I move towards them, joining their circle. Each step easier than the last. And then I see why. The red pulses once then fades; slowly, then all at once. Turning ultimately green. The colour repulsing me with its disgusting aroma. The nurse shaking her head. Four's face set, hardened, decisive.<br/>
Micah was dead.<br/>
And Ella had killed him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Pain is Like a Drug</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The second round of fights are about to begin.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Four's decision is quick made. He gathers a hefty Dauntless member to carry Micah's body. Away. He doesn't specify where. Then he turns to the rest of us.<br/>
"Micah's death was an accident; it was his own, not Ella's fault. Anyone giving her a hard time about it will get cut. " He observes out solemn faces. Their solemn faces. And my trying-not-to-vomit face.<br/>
"But we're continuing with the fights today. Coping with pressure and loss is part of your training. "<br/>
He turns, marking Cilla the winner out of her and Callie, and gives Ella 5 points. I see this. Next it's too much. I've lost the moon. Sprinting out the room. Down the corridor. Nearest toilet. Throwing up into it. The taste in my mouth unbearable. Death lingering against my tongue. Retch again, but there's nothing left in me. </p><p>Heaving, I push myself up. Rinse my mouth in the tap, not that I know how I got to it. Wash my face. Deep laborious breaths. In through nose, out through mouth. I gag. Grip the porcelain sink with prominent stark white knuckles. Equally white skin in the mirror. Clammy. Try again. In through my nose, out through my nose. Better. I breathe again. And again. And again. Until my head clears. Still murky greenish brown, but no longer filled with the pungent scent of Death. </p><p>I stumble, gripping the doorframe at the last moment. Pull myself up again, muscles in my arms, burning. Back of my throat, burning. Stand there. Gather my wits. My brain. My oxygen. Then I manage to stagger back down the corridor. Looking less like a drunk Dauntless with each step. Back through the door. Over to the rings. Without my knees collapsing out from underneath me. Some random initiate notices me and turns. Concern teal in his coffee tinged irises.<br/>
"You okay?" The bedraggled curls shift slightly over his face; shade lighter than the eyes.<br/>
I nod, attempting to look like I meant it. Weak smile. Hoping I don't smell of sick. But that fades as soon as I see Four. Walking. Towards me. Purposefully.<br/>
"Sorry. " I mutter, turning away. Grateful he won't hurt me for mumbling. Burying myself alive in the crowd. They're tall; he won't find me. Not here in my own personal forest. There are more initiates than I ever thought there would be. More than half the 16 year olds appear to have chosen Dauntless. It's surprising if there are any at all in other factions. These initiates are from a mix of factions. Lots of Amity. But only one Abnegation. Most are taller than me, shielding me. Stronger than me. Absorbed into the sea, black as pitch, I hear his voice like the switch on a flashlight.<br/>
"Kat versus Em. Ring 2. "</p><p>The blood on 1 cleaned up, lemon bleach fills the sage air. Still glad I'm on Ring 2. The plan still in place in my head. Taking my position opposite the tall blonde Dauntless. Hair flicked back, mine lank around my face. I stand. And wait. Arms by sides, back straight. No defensive position, no hint of attack. She lunges, stepping before throwing the punch. Pushing the air out of my lungs. Winded. Then again, right-left-right. Upper-cut to jaw. Right hook. I don't resist, don't try to escape the pain. Instead, embrace it like a long lost friend; just stand there and take it. Because that's all I'm good at. And that's all I deserve. </p><p>Her position shifts, blood collecting in my mouth. The possibility of a broken tooth. Or an impaled tongue, teeth clenched against it to prevent crying out. Red stars shimmer. Fat, bloody lip. She changes tact, aiming a low kick at the back of my knees, causing me to stumble. Twisting her foot round, hooking it around my calf to flip it up. Unbalanced. Shoulders hit the floor first, pain shooting across my back like shooting stars. Reopened the wounds. Blood leaking out. Black spots. Fist crashes into the side of my head, jamming it to one side. I would give no defence even if I was able to. Too much going on. Too many senses. Too much pain. But it's mine, and the means justify everything. The granite folds under me; a blanket. Tucking me in at all sides. Kissing me goodnight. Covering. Enveloping. Suffocating.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The Best Teacup is Never Chipped</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Kat wakes up after falling unconscious again, and has an interesting conversation with Four before meeting up with her friends.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I wake. Maybe it would be better if I were still asleep, still unconscious. I wasn't gone for nearly long enough, that much is clear. The pain fresh. I can tell it's only been an hour. Maybe two. I push myself up. Shirt crusted with blood, dark, almost black. But the lilac interlaces with my back. The stitches holding me together, praying that I don't fall apart. But I'm stronger now, the ever-dominated nightmare faded. He shifts and I curse inside my god-forsaken mind. How could I have not noticed him sooner? Shadows plaything his face. Hollowing out his cheekbones, under his eyes. </p><p>"You know, if you're going to make a habit of fainting after every fight I will have no choice but to cut you. " The words holding two meanings; but I know that he is not like Marcus, he will not cut me in that way. Not in the way to make me bleed anyway. Not with the intent of scars.<br/>
Four's mouth glints with a half-smile. Like he's trying to warn me, but at the same time figures it won't happen again. And it won't. Not on my watch, metaphorical or otherwise. I've had my punishment; and unless more is deserving I shall be sticking to training.<br/>
"You didn't fight back. " He pressed, encouraging me to spill. The gossip. The beans. My life story. But I won't.<br/>
"Wasn't that hard to notice. "<br/>
"And yet you're against people noticing you. " Tilting his head towards my back, "She gave you stitches again, you want to tell me why?"<br/>
"No. " I sound angry, fierce even. Pupils black pits of coal in my eyes. Flames roaring, cracking, striking blows. </p><p>He sighs. Like someone used to people back-talking him. But not in this way. Not in a way where I refuse to tell him anything, give anything away. That's why people can't know. Because then they'll look at me as if I might break. As if I might shatter. But I won't. Not that easily or I would have fragmented a long time ago. But I'm still here. Still human. Still fighting. Even if I'm not still whole. </p><p>Getting up, eyes a storm, tired.<br/>
"Not everyone's out to get you, Kat. " Pushing the chair away in pent-up frustration, he stalks to the door, on the verge of slamming it. Of causing black shards to fly; aimed at me. Always at me; ready to pierce my heart.<br/>
"Wait. "<br/>
He stops, but doesn't turn, just outside the doorway. A habit similar to my own. If not the same.<br/>
"Why am I Kat?"<br/>
It's a curious question. Not spiked with anger, hatred, malice, frustration. All things key to hiding myself. This leaves me open to the elements. Unprepared for the gale hurtling toward me; throwing me down, beating me senseless, off the cliff. Gone.<br/>
Four turns. Slowly. As if pondering his answer.<br/>
"Did you expect me to call you Stiff forever?"<br/>
"That wasn't what I asked. " Eyes flash up to meet mine. Cold. Daring. Dauntless.<br/>
"I guess I didn't think Theresa suited you. "<br/>
“So you just changed my name?”<br/>
“Well it wasn’t like you were particularly forthcoming about it, and I had to call you something. “</p><p>I wait for ten minutes after Four leaves. Mind a turmoil of confusion. Unanswered questions spinning out of control. Tornados; destroying everything I believed was concrete. Everything I thought was true. But I'm not going to ask them. I can't. If he knows my name he might know more. On my case. Knowledge sparked blue. I know I can't hide forever, but I will hide here in the shadows for as long as life with physically allow. Into the shadows, out of the light. </p><p>There are few people in the dorm when I reach it. No one I know the name of. Not noticing me as I leave seconds after entering. That's good. It means I'm still darkness, luminosity still vacant. The Pit's crowded. Everyone drunk. Even a few initiates look intoxicated. I don't know why we're not training today, but I let it go. Let it go like parents to a fledgling; like the heat of the moment before surrendering to the cool iridescent tranquility of gentian. </p><p>Pushing my way through to the tattoo parlour. Bodies crush against mine, muscles shoving me out the way. Sometimes being small is a godsend. The parlour is cooler. Despite still bring busy the body heat has decreased marginally. I breathe, hoping my friends are here because I really don't want to go back out there. Here it's fresher, the ochre odour dispersing into soft mint. </p><p>Eyes searching as I move, squeeze, push; the clusters mainly of initiates. Excitement fizzes through the air. Lemonade. Most people getting their first tattoo. Needle against flesh. Ink against skin. Leaving visible scars. But unlike mine these are wanted. Memories. Cherished. Not merely reminders. To do better; to be better.<br/>
Squeezing past the cried of Dauntless-borns laughing with Mullet-Head. The bird imprinted across his torso, ready to fly. It's probably a pelican. But I don't want to, care enough to look for more than a second. The Abnegation don't act like that. </p><p>Magnolia relief warms my skin as I spot Ella. Callie. The random Amity boy who asked if I was okay. They talk animately. Callie staring off to one side, not listening. Jude tense in a chair. Black leather. Teeth clenched. Trying not to faint, to show weakness, as the needle scrawls across her left shoulder. Black swirl dropping and curving under the pale one. Creating the perfect circle. Perfectly symmetrical. Equal distance in radius. It's unsurprising. If it wasn't whole and round and even she would probably redo it herself. Or try to. </p><p>"Hi!" Ella spies me lurking. Grabs me by the arm, pulling me over to her Amity Friend.<br/>
"Seb, Kat. Kat, Seb. "<br/>
She says it casually, as if it's perfectly normal for me to meet one of her friends I never even knew existed. Looking closer, I spot the head of a snake against his neck. Twisting around it and over his left shoulder. Poised. Ready to pounce. To protect if anyone threatens them. His venom slowly poisoning them as the ink poisons his skin.<br/>
"Hi. " His eyes recognise me, but I just smile nervously. Awkwardly. So probably not much of a smile. I resist the urge to incline my head. That's Abnegation. Not Dauntless; not Amity. And I am not Abnegation. I turn to Ella.<br/>
"Are you going to get a tattoo?"<br/>
Shaking her head slowly, eyeing the snake on Seb's neck - I know how Ella hates snakes, despite her love of animals.<br/>
"I don't think so; Jude is though, and Sinaya.<br/>
I nod. Remembering Jude tense against the chair. A pale orange buzz surrounding her, twisted with black. Anxiety. And fear.</p><p>As she speaks their names, both come over. Sinaya bounding and skipping and dancing, with an energy I can't begin to fathom. Gaining stares and laughs from the other initiates. Jude just walking. Like a normal person. Grabbing Ella and I in a hug, wincing as my arms hits her shoulder blade.<br/>
"Sorry!" We pull apart; Sinaya pushing her shoulder out of the t-shirt's head hold to show us her tattoo.<br/>
Fire protruding over her shoulder, flames forcing their way forward with a will of their own. Red and black entwined, raging against one another. A force to be reckoned with. Full of the anger and compassion of red, but fuelled by black's pain; black's fear.<br/>
The dragon itself, basic simplicity. The lines almost that of an artist's paintbrush; rough, and without precision. It's wing arcs in one swift streak down the curve of her back; the tail spiralling into a flick at the bottom, arrowed at the end. </p><p>Pulling the top back up, she looks at me concernedly.<br/>
"You keep fainting, are you sure you're alright?"<br/>
And for the second time that day, someone else's irises were ringed with a teal worry for my well-being.<br/>
"I'm fine. " I reply. Firmly. I don't like sympathy. Don't do sympathy. It gets you absolutely nowhere in life, just drawing unwanted attention towards me. Like the bruises on my face I had to fey innocence of; pretend I tripped; fell; anything but the truth. I can't hurt them, just like he can't hurt me now.<br/>
The rings grow narrower around her dark eyes, not disappearing completely, but it's enough for now. </p><p>Fortunately, Ella breaks anymore conversation about me; shoving the daydreaming Seb gently in the arm. Us laughing as he's raised from his stupor.<br/>
"You're staring again. " Ella points out as he fake-glares at her.<br/>
"I don't mean to; she's just so pretty. Why won't she notice me?" Desperation seeps into his voice, leaking through the cracks. I look between Ella and Seb in confusion. This was new. But obviously not to them.<br/>
"Seb's got crush on Em. " Ella supplements, looking as if she's forcing herself not to laugh at our expressions.<br/>
"Nope. " He's still staring at her; more discretely than before. A warm pink glow surrounding his exterior, seeming to come from somewhere inside of him and somewhere to his left. I don't know how I didn't notice it before.<br/>
Ella rolls her eyes, a sign of humour and lightheartedness. Her eyes, however, imply otherwise. Her chocolate brown irises pinker and shinier than usual. Obscured though by a green haze, decaying her eyesight. Jealousy.<br/>
"Fine. Seb is in love with Em. That better?"<br/>
He doesn't reply as at that moment Em stalks past with the Pelican, shirt now back on. Magenta rushes into Becky's cheeks in fear of their overhearance.<br/>
"Wait, so let me get this straight, " Jude breaks in once they're out of ear-shot. "You're in love with her? Violent, angry, Faction-Head's step-sister Em?"<br/>
He nods, finally tearing his eyes away.<br/>
"Each one to their own, I guess. " Jude mumbles, obviously embarrassed. Me? I can't help but agree with her. They're just too different: Amity boy, Dauntless girl. Confident and born to fight, brought up to be passive. Their natures just seem to conflict too much. A full on war against everything the other stands for. But he had picked Dauntless, so that must have counted for something.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Irony</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Another fight, but tension brews amongst the initiates.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I oversleep once within the next few weeks. Just once. After the Pelican beat the crap out of me in the fifth fight I'd lost. The inhumanity and pitiless nature of the Dauntless returning. My whole body buzzing red, exhaustion setting in, I'd collapsed and slept passed the wake-up call. Crawling out of bed now, arms and legs leaden, recoiling in shock at all the empty beds. And I mean all. The room hollow and silent, everyone else gone. Why didn't they wake me? My friends, why did they leave me here?</p><p>Dressing as fast as my frozen arms will allow. Taking me twice as long to tie my laces, fingers fumbling. I make it to Training Room A fifteen minutes later to find it packed full of initiates and Dauntless members. Grateful no one notices my late entry, squeezing between the crammed bodies until I find my friends, losing myself in the scents of sweat and anticipation. Something's happening in the centre of the room, but I can't see. Can't see anything except black; my size an affliction of not being able to see past shoulder blades. Until I find a bounce of chestnut hair, restrained by an ebony bow instead of the previous sunshine yellow.<br/>
"Why didn't you wake me?!" Grabbing her shoulder, pulling her round to face me. The others notice me too, all looking round with equally guilty expressions.<br/>
"Four said to let you sleep. " Ella finally replies, looking me in the eyes.<br/>
"Four said?!" I explode, the chattering around me absorbing the harshness of the sound. How come Four said?! How come no one else was asleep when I woke up?!<br/>
"Yes. " Callie breaks in, tearing her eyes away from whatever's happening that I can't see. "He let everyone sleep but Jude, Carrick, Kane, and the ginger girl with viridian eyes. "<br/>
Seb looks at her, surprised with her colour description.<br/>
"You mean Tif?"<br/>
"Yeah, her, whatever. " Callie turns back to the room's centre.<br/>
"Where's Jude?" I suddenly realise; the head above all heads absent.<br/>
"Mmm, what?" Sinaya turns, leaving a gap in the crowd, a passageway through which I can finally see. </p><p>Em's step-brother, the Faction Head, on top of Jude. Face impassive except for the rage pulsing behind his eyes. The rage produced by a good fight. Hands pinning her arms down, preventing her fighting back. Kneeing her sharply in the stomach, her eyes flashing crimson each time with the pain. Her cries audible from way back here. </p><p>I step forward, preparing to help her. Not knowing how; not caring about how much I will get hurt. No one hurts my friends and gets away with it. Anger pulsing horizon at the back of my head; jade the stone of my will to protect.<br/>
But before I can cry out, shout out, do anything more than take a step, a hand grips my wrist - not too tightly, just hard enough to stop me escaping - pulling me back.<br/>
"It's part of initiation. " The Pelican explains, eyes fixed on me; my eyes fixed on Jude's wavering defence. Hand still not releasing my wrist. "Four names are picked at random to fight full Dauntless members. A chance to gain more points depending on how long they last. "<br/>
Still not looking at him, I watch Jude go limp from exhaustion, the Faction Head stepping back - fight won. Friends all surging forward to her aid, me included. Pulling out of the Pelican's grip just as he relinquishes it.</p><p>By Jude's side in seconds, thankful that she's still conscious, a great feat for her. Pushing the five of us away as she sits and then tries to stand up. Her giraffe-like legs buckling underneath her at the last second. Our reactions too slow to even consider catching her, she falls backwards into her Faction Head's awaiting arms; drifting out of consciousness as he lifts her up and carries her out of the room, us still standing there like idiots.<br/>
Only I notice the turquoise rose in his eyes.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Shards</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's visiting day, but what does this mean for Kat?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next day is visiting day, but that’s okay I guess. It’s not like he’s going to come, and without him I feel like I can accomplish anything. It’s still dark when I wake; not yet late enough for the automatic lights to switch on, but I can hear the breaths of the initiates around me, hear the rustle of sheets and bodies, and I know that everyone else is already awake too. Waiting. </p>
<p>When Four finally walks in to tell us our parents have arrived everyone is already dressed, too nervous for breakfast. <br/>“It doesn’t matter if they don’t come, right?” Sinaya’s words racing out her mouth like she’s afraid to keep them in a moment longer. <br/>“Nah,” Callie replies, “if they can’t love us for being independent, then I guess they never really loved us. “ Her face goes pink as she says that, realising what that means if some of our parents don’t turn up, her colour deepening as she scans the Pit, her parents not there. <br/>“Oh well,” Jude takes her by the arm “looks like you’re going to have to put up with my overly honest family for the day.” She pulls her over to her parents and brother, and smiles as her mum first embraces her, and then Callie. It must be nice to have a family like that, but my thoughts are interrupted as Ella lets out a squeal, running straight into her parents’ arms, joy circulating the air around her. I turn to Sinaya beside me, but she’s already gone, a mass of black and white around her, and I sigh, glad they’re happy despite the black loneliness tugging at my heart. I turn away towards the chasm; they’ll find me later. It’s not that I’m jealous that their parents have come, more that they have parents who love them. </p>
<p>The water crashes against the rocks, shattering itself from the impact, so I don’t hear him approach, recoiling from shock when he speaks. <br/>“No family today?”<br/>“No, but that’s not unusual in transfers”. <br/>“No. It’s not.” We’re silent for a minute, but Four breaks it again and it strikes me how weird this must look: the instructor and the initiate, both alone on visiting day. <br/>“How do you think the first stage of initiation went?”<br/>I bite my lip, my stomach a mess due to the first round of scores that will be released later today. The last ten people will be cut. <br/>“I think it went okay. Middle of the pack I guess, hopefully that’s enough. I was worried about Ella, but since Mic... “ I trail off, “No one wants to fight her anymore, so she’s actually got a pretty high score. “<br/>Four nods, like he agrees with me. <br/>“That was an unanticipated mistake. I should have been more vigilant. I’ve been trying to get the council to put initiates in protective gear for ages. “ He mutters this, almost to himself rather than to me, so I remain silent; today should be a happy day, and I don’t want to dredge up old memories. <br/>“How many people will be cut today?” I ask after a while. <br/>“Eight. Usually it’s not so many but we’ve had an increase in numbers this year. Ten people will be cut after stage three, and fifteen after stage four. We can only let fifteen transfers in each year. “<br/>I try to do the math in my head, work out the likelihood of all my friends getting through, but I’ve never been that good at maths; I’ll have to ask Callie later. All I know is that it’s not likely. Maybe we should have chosen a different faction, Erudite perhaps, but I don’t think I’d have been happy there, not with her. </p>
<p>My ears have become more attuned to the water crashing below us now so I hear him when he approaches, but I just brush it off as another lonely Dauntless; I actually feel safe enough here not to question it. <br/>I should have questioned it. <br/>“Theresa. “<br/>My body recoils as I turn round to face him, hands shaking as I take a step back, treading on Four’s foot. Why is he here? He shouldn’t be here, he can’t be, he can’t be. <br/>“Theresa, I want you to come home with me now. “<br/>“What?” I splutter in surprise. Surely he knows that I can’t go back even if I wanted to? From now on I’m either Dauntless or factionless. <br/>“You’ve disgraced me, the least you can do is return to abnegation, tell them you were unwell, chose wrong. We will let you return. “<br/>He says it calmly enough, but I can hear the edge to his voice after this long; he knows he’s on full view and therefore just behave as the public expect him to. Just a selfless father wanting what’s best for his children. Except it’s not what’s best for me. <br/>“No.” The word jumps from my mouth before I can stop it, and I clamp my hand to my mouth in horror as Marcus’ face turns ugly.<br/>“Now listen here. Someone found out that you are mine, and I cannot be affiliated with Dauntless scum, not again. So you either come with me willingly or I will force you. “<br/>He takes a step towards me, and I take another one back, banging into Four’s chest. He still hasn’t moved, and I turn round in confusion to find him frozen in place. His eyes flicker between us, but he still doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything as Marcus’ hand snaps out, grabbing me round the wrist.<br/>“Come.”<br/>I shake my head again, trying and failing to remember any self-defence technique I’ve learnt in the last weeks that might get me out of this mess. His grip tightens, his breath hot in my ear,<br/>“I don’t want to make a scene.”<br/>The implication is obvious, and I step away from Four, towards Marcus. I’d have been humiliated by my fear, but Four is equally as frozen, and our voices are drowned out by the chasm. But if Marcus does decide to make a scene then everyone will see. Everyone. I begin to follow Marcus towards the training rooms, when Four finally moves, dashing after us.<br/>“Excuse me, sir, but if you’re looking for a quiet place to talk to your daughter I can show you to one of our more private training rooms?”<br/>Marcus turns, his eyes flashing with a familiarity I can’t place, and he emits I sharp laugh that doesn’t meet his eyes.<br/>“Lead the way then, boy.”<br/>Four takes us to a room I’ve never seen before, fairly small, with a table at the centre. He lets us enter first, locking the door behind him and leaning against the frame. Marcus indicates for me to sit across from him, and I perch on the edge of the chair, hands shaking.<br/>“You’re coming back with me. Today.”<br/>I shake my head, refusing to look to Four for help. I was a Dauntless initiate. If I couldn’t handle talking to my own father, I definitely didn’t belong here.<br/>Marcus’ mouth twists as he leans closer, his voice growing louder as blackness roils at the edge of my vision.<br/>“I will not say it again.”<br/>I shake my head again, preparing to push my chair back, to flee, to –<br/><i>Crack.</i><br/>His hand whips across my face, and I’m rooted to the chair, back in abnegation, back in hell.<br/>“You will do as I say! I’m your father!”<br/>I hear a sharp intake of breath from Four, but my blood is pumping in my ears, preparing for the worst. I just sit there, like a coward, ready to take it, but refusing to comply with his demands. He reaches out again, hands slamming against my shoulders, forcing me onto the floor. I scramble back, coming up against a wall, hands raising in a feeble attempt to defend myself. Marcus raises his fist again, his pupils back, and I shrivel in on myself as a dark shape collides with my father, taking the brunt of his blow. Four.<br/>He has Marcus pinned against the wall, his breath ragged like he’d just run a marathon.<br/>“Whatever this is, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Inter-faction violence is forbidden.” Marcus doesn’t reply. He looks almost weak compared to Four; just a short, old, man.<br/>“I’m going to count to five, and then I’m going to release you. I’d suggest you then calmly leave Dauntless. It would not look good for one of the council members to be seen beating up a little girl. Not very selfless.” Four turns to me, and I refuse to catch his gaze.<br/>“K-Theresa, I’d like you to wait here a moment please.” He turns back to Marcus: “One, two, three, four, five.” He releases his grip, stepping backward to give Marcus some space. My father straightens his crumpled grey shirt, wiping a spray of spit from his upper lip.<br/>“I’ll be back,” he snarls, stalking out the room.<br/>I sink against the wall, the shaking coming on in full force now.<br/>“Kat-”<br/>I push my hand out to stop Four coming any closer, trying to get myself back under control, pushing myself back up.<br/>“Kat-”<br/>“I-I’m fine. Sorry about that. Little family argument. That’s all.” My voice comes in gasps, the black finally receding. It looks like Four’s hands are shaking, but that’s probably just because I’m shaking so much. “Thanks for stepping in.”<br/>“Kat-”<br/>I just shake my head, nearly running out the door in the opposite direction that Marcus went, leaving Four standing alone in the training room. Only once I’m locked in a room far away do I let the panic engulf me.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Irony. And Fear.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Stage 2 of initiation is about to begin.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>By the time I return the next morning Callie's already gone. Cut, Ella said, along with at least ten others. Names removed from the board, no note, clothes gone. Nothing to indicate that they were even here in the first place, except our memories. And they can be changed, manipulated, altered. This totalitarian society ensures that. Callie and the others will be completely gone in a matter of days, wiped from existence. Because they weren't good enough, chose wrong, don't belong to our society any longer. <br/>It made her happy, Jude told me, and I can hear the jackhammer drill of her guilt, pushing deeper into her, ripping her apart from the outside in. She said Callie felt like she didn't belong; hated the pain, the violence; scared of the people, of us. She should have picked Erudite. Should have gone where she belonged. We shouldn't have forced her hand. </p>
<p>Relief pours through me too. Not when they tell me I've passed Stage One, but when they fail to ask about him. Fail to ask where I've been. And fail to ask about my face. Other people stare. Whisper through the indigo haze. Ask pointed questions. But they have none. Or maybe they have, but by now have given up asking. I never answered honestly even when they did, so by now they probably don't care, and I don't blame them. <br/>Grabbing my stuff and heading straight for the showers, not bothering to look at the Scoreboard, to see where I came. It makes no difference to me. I still can't fight Marcus and that's what this is about. Instead, just massaging soap into the slit in my arm; relishing in the pain not caused by him. Red pinpricks piercing everything; red streaming from the wound; red spilling over and over, onto the tiled floor. Washed away with the soap suds; tinged pink, rose, candy floss. Its iron scent causing my nose to wrinkle, the headache to start, and the rust inside my brain to grow; corroding the joints, shutting me down. I scrub at my skin until it's rubbed raw and the darkness is gone, until I'm free of fear and it's long-gone down the plug-hole. But it's not absent for long, because I'm walking back into the dorm and Four's there and I'm swamped in it once again; rust gone and brain wide awake. Wide awake and ready to run at any moment. To escape. Ivy prickles down my spine. Stood in the doorway unmoving. </p>
<p>"...Stage Two is mental - fear based - it tests how much control you can exert over yourself. Meet me in the Simulation Sector. You have five minutes. " He turns and stalks out, but I can see him staring out of my peripheral vision, a mix of hues indicating his confusion; the black reflecting his hurt. Why is he confused? Surely my reaction is to be expected. Eyes firmly on my feet; hands wringing in uncertainty as if I'm attempting to wash them clean, to wash the fear away. Calming my breathing as I walk back to my bed, forcing the lavender scent to become my surroundings. And it almost works - almost - but then the Pelican's looking at me, sensing my discomfort, and my breathing catches. Fear of him telling my friends suddenly returns, causing my pace to quicken until I almost bump into Lauren. <br/>"You okay?"<br/>I nod numbly, pushing the beast down, suffocating it, wiping it from my mind. Ensuring it's completely gone before I look up again. The only remains of its existence the rancid fumes inside my mind. <br/>"Come on then." She half-laughs before moving with Ella towards the door. I catch up, immersing myself in their happiness, wrapping me in it tightly; a blanket of sunshine yellow and birds tweeting and them. </p>
<p>"She doesn't like you. " Sinaya's obstinate voice drifts forward and into my bubble, making me drop back to walk with her and Seb, whose face is twisted with worry. Agitated wrinkles creasing his forehead and lining his chocolate smothered eyes. <br/>"I know. " The pain is apparent in his tone, creating a sunset of colours when mixed with the longing evident. These colours leaving a trail of bubbles as we walk. "But she might, once she knows me better. " Misery clouds his judgment, but even he can see that won't happen. <br/>"Who's this?" I interrupt, bursting the vesicles floating behind us. "Em?"<br/>"Yeah..." I give him a half-hug with my arm as an effort to install some confidence. It doesn't work. "I just can't imagine anyone feeling the way I do, not about me. What sort of person is going to get butterflies because of me?" <br/>Ella's stride falters up ahead, and I'm in half a mind to put them both out of their misery. But I shouldn't. I shouldn't get involved. This is nothing to do with me. So instead I say something general, not that he bothers to take it seriously. <br/>"I bet there's someone right now who feels exactly that way; they're just too scared to tell you. "<br/>He shrugs, unbelieving, and by the time Ella turns round to us her cheeks have faded into a warm glow; visible to everyone except him, his eyes once again drawn to Em's cool, sharp visage. </p>
<p>Four starts by taking us into the simulation room one by one. A random order and random time gaps. Anywhere between an hour and fifteen minutes. And it's the waiting that gets us. The waiting as we hear the screams, the cries, and even worse, the silence. Our fear manifests in the room, darkening the shadows, robbing eyes of their light. People speak in hushed whispers, each locked in their own personal cage of torment; counting down until their own personal hell. Revisiting their fears; trying to prepare. It won't work. You can't unlearn fear. But still my hands twist in agitation, fingers clenching then unclenching. I'm scared of seeing Marcus again. Or rather petrified, I'd say , if I was Candor. But I'm not. So I will just pretend that it's better than it is. Because I know what I will see; and even if I know it's fake, it still feels real.</p>
<p>Sinaya's knee bounces up and down uncontrollably, in time with the Pelican's on the opposite side of the room although she does not notice. Ella does though, and soon she catches my eye and hysterics catch up with us for a couple of seconds before Cilla's piercing scream cuts straight down the room, leaving a deep black gash which won't heal and a silence which can't be overcome. He takes Ella next, whose sobs we can hear muffled by the door. Then Stowe. And Em. I wish Sinaya good luck and then she's gone too. Along with everyone else. At least I won't have to worry about people hearing my reaction. My terror. Thoughts spring up in my mind before I can stop them. Planting dangerous ideas which do not help my current state of mind: no one to hear me scream. No one to come running if I need them. I don't trust Four. Not after yesterday. Maybe this was his plan. I can't do this. Can't risk it. I get up quickly, aiming to escape out the door, back to the dorm. Turning the handle in my grasp - <br/>"Kat?" <br/>Four is staring at me, confusion cluttering his tone, jumbling his thoughts into a mess of colours and sounds littering the floor. <br/>"Where are you going?" <br/>I'm too late, I should have left sooner, should have realised. But I didn't. So I let my hand drop. Let humiliation at my cowardice fill me up. Swallow down a new bundle of nerves to feast in my stomach. Feeding off me, little chunk by little chunk. Tearing the strips away until I'm left with nothing. Nothing. </p>
<p>Ears buzzing, amber with warning, I follow him into the room. Having to refocus my vision every few minutes so his face remains his own; so he doesn't turn into Marcus. Four turns away from me almost immediately, pointing me to the chair whilst he fiddles with the computer. <br/>"This will be similar to the Aptitude Test; your mind will be transported into the simulation but your body will remain here. In this case it's your worst fear. "<br/>I close my mind in a moment of blind panic. Afraid of what I'm about to experience. Afraid of Four seeing it. Afraid of being judged further. <br/>"Calm your heart rate and the simulation will end." He waves a lilac-filled syringe at me, emitting lavender rays. Ironic really, seeing as peace is the colour of purple.<br/>"Not afraid of needles I hope. " Four's mouth twists into a slight smile as his eyebrows raise.<br/>I don't reply - my response a swift movement of hair away from my neck. <br/>"I'll take that as a no.." The mumble drifts quietly across the room, tinged with humour. Steeling myself, but he merely slides the needle under my skin with a small red star, not the jab and explosion I was expecting. </p>
<p>Colours merge together. Blending. Arguing. Pushing against one another. An all out war of a kind of beauty until Black forces its way in. Forceful actions, rigid in order. Disrupting the madness, wiping out the mindless serenity until it overcomes my whole vision. Shutting my eyes. Forcing the blackness in as I fall.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Some Secrets Are Better Left Secret.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The first simulation.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trigger Warning for rape (it's not in very much detail).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>(Trigger warning - rape)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The zip ties are too tight. Pinching into my skin, cutting off circulation. Red dots splattering the atmosphere; overwhelmed by the shadows of pitch. Of wolves. Of nightmares. They pin me to the bed, small frame stretched to reach. Fear coursing through my veins. Sticky tar. Blood no longer blue. Black. Legs spread wide. Arms tied above head. Almost unable to move; can only shift side-to-side. But I don't try. Don't try to scream, to escape. No one will come. And besides, I have nowhere to run to. My secrets smothering me. No longer a security blanket. Hitched breathing comes instead, gasps of stale air to quell the dread. The trepidation. Beating against my chest, punching; closer to the surface each time. Penetrating organs, pushing through. Banging on the cage door. Demanding to be released. Letting darkness enfold me brings short but bitter relief. </p>
<p>Soft footsteps in the doorway. Predator approaching prey. Victimising me. Humiliation a dark raw red, burning me from the inside. Charring my remains. Throwing my ashes away. Tugging at me. Asking me to stop this. <br/>I can't. <br/>Stepping closer. Desire searing holes in his eyes. My nightdress scrunched up under me, rising too high. No point trying to pull it down. Not that I could if I tried. <br/>Smirk hinting in his lips. He's at his worst; hyped up. This could go on for hours. I lie still, unmoving. Trying not to provoke him. Enshrouded in the dark. In my fear. Palpitations threatening to burst out my chest as he moves out of my line of vision; the unknown scaring me. </p>
<p>He's suddenly on top of me. His hands and knees supporting his weight, forming a cage above me as I force myself to escape into my mind. Not to think. To think of anything but this. The pain of insertion as a cry escapes me, shuddering the bed. Scarlet clubs battering me, grunting under the pressure. <br/>Turning my thoughts away, burying myself within my them. To think of anything that might distract me, to take me away from the here and the now. The factions. The factionless. That's always where I assumed I'd end up. Thrown out once Marcus had decided I wasn't good enough for purpose. Maybe he'd find someone else to torture as I starved to death. But I don't plan on going anywhere he can get to me ever again. Which makes me wonder how I ended up here; did he drag me back from Dauntless? Did I never actually escape that room? I don't want to think of the possibility of being stuck here with Marcus forever. Dauntless had been my escape. My reprise. <br/>My friends pass through my mind. Particularly Seb's dedication to Em; his oblivion to Ella's obvious crush. Anyone could notice the pink in her cheeks, her changed demeanour, even if they couldn't see the colours I could. The quartz glow that followed her whenever he was near. The scent of rose, of love. Maybe I should put them both out of their misery; but then, maybe I shouldn't. I shouldn't interfere in their lives. I'd only leave a scar. </p>
<p>I lie there until I go numb. Waiting for it to end, the same as usual. So withdrawn that I enter the darkness. I can't see Marcus; can't see anything. Feel anything. Everything is made of nothing. My heartbeat slows as I block out the pain. I can deal with this. Can almost pretend nothing is happening. That I'm back at Dauntless and Marcus is gone. Never to return. </p>
<p>That is when I open my eyes.<br/>That is when I start to shake. <br/>That is when I see my instructor crouched in front of me. Face drawn as if someone had just died.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Coming Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I push backwards against the chair, horror shrouding the air. I can't breathe. He saw that. He saw that and now he knows I'm a coward. Slipping out of the chair and over to the far wall, the black pushing against my eyelids as I fight it. I don't want to black out. I need to stay awake and alert here, in case Four tries something. Breathing heavily, the walls close in, press against me. Shattering my ribs, breaking my bones as I try not to convulse. <br/>It wasn't real. But it felt so real; I'd acted as if he was there, as if it was really happening. </p>
<p>"Kat. " I cover my face with my hands, breaths ragged, tearing at my hair. <br/>"Kat. It's fine, you're safe now. " Four takes a step towards me, enclosed with teal, and I snap. <br/>"I'm not though am I?" The blue breaks in half and blood pours out of his soul as I shout. Tears screaming down my face. "He could come back. There's nothing stopping him. And even if he doesn't..." A pause. A shuddering breath. "You're here now. To finish what he started. "<br/>I glare at him defiantly, expecting him to retaliate. But he doesn't. All that's around him is an empty, hollow black. Fear. Dread. As if all his nightmares had poured into one. I look down, expecting the punishment, trying to stop myself shaking so much that I don't realise that there's no red, no anger, no violence. <br/>A movement in the corner of my eye causes me to flinch, and I glance up. But he's not preparing to attack. He's... He's removing his shirt... The dread still evident around him but with the force of determination.<br/>"Don't. Pl-please." I stutter. Afraid this is some weird stunt before he comes for me. But he's not coming any closer. Not making any aggressive move towards me; isn't even facing me. But his back is covered in lines - scars. I could recognise them anywhere. Not as red as mine, and older, much older, almost white, but still there. I don't understand. Confusion shrouds me, dragging me down and making my head spin. </p>
<p>"Four?" My voice sticks in my throat. I sound weak, vulnerable, but if anything that's what my fear landscape has already proven to him. That I'm a coward. <br/>He sighs. Black exhaled into the air as he forces himself to turn and look at me. <br/>"That's not my name. Not my Abnegation name anyway. " I look at him quizzically, surprised. I hadn't expected him to be from Abnegation. He doesn't look like he belongs there. But I guess that's why he left. <br/>"I was Tobias. Tobias Eaton. Marcus Eaton's son. "</p>
<p>Well I wasn't expecting that. The confusion drops to the floor like stone, bricks, a dead body. It's him. The one who was never supposed to see me. Tobias. Thoughts come at me thick and fast. Hard to dodge. Impossible to dodge as their weight hits me dead on, causing me to stumble, weaken.<br/>He's my brother. At least partly. I can't remember who his mother is. Don't know if I ever saw her. I lived with her until I started school. Before she decided I wasn't good enough. For her or for anyone else. <br/>I should have recognised him. I've spent my whole life avoiding him, I should know what he looks like. Similar to Marcus. I should have seen it. <br/>Why didn't he come back to help me? He's strong now, he could have stopped it. He could have saved me. He left me alone with him. The man who beat him and did far worse to me. I probably deserved it though. Maybe that's why he didn't come, didn't help. Maybe it doesn't matter who he is. Maybe he's still here to finish what Marcus started. </p>
<p>The room begins to spin. Or rather, the things in the room are moving in and out of focus, everything centred on Four. The lighting strips blocked out by my darkness, my fear. I want to leave, escape, but my legs are working. The blackness heavy, dragging me down; chains round my ankles pulling me back into hell. And I can't stop it. Can't keep fighting. <br/>He doesn't catch me as I hit the floor.</p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. It Don't Exist</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Waking up doesn't happen gradually; it's like a shot. One minute I'm gone, the next I'm here. All the thoughts there before I collapsed back in my head. Great. I blacked out again. Usually I don't do that unless the pain is really bad. Usually after he's torn my back to shreds, not after the other 'stuff'; I can't sleep then, can't relax. Have to stay on my guard. Ironic really, considering Four's standing guard over me now. Or maybe he just wants to be the first one here when I wake up, so he can warn me not to tell the others. It's not like I would anyhow; what would I say? 'Oh yeah, by the way, Four and I have just realised we're related. ' Because that doesn't sound suspicious at all. </p>
<p>The infirmary is the same as the last time I was here, but empty. That's a good thing. Sitting up doesn't make my head spin. That's also good. And nothing hurts. I glare at Four despite the teal that signifies he's glad I'm awake. <br/>"You left me with him. " I accuse, point blank. Anger clouding my vision, shards pointed at Four. "You knew what he was like - knew I existed - and you still left me with him. "<br/>That's what hurts the most. The knowledge that I could have been free of Marcus a year sooner. Or he could have contacted me. Told someone. Helped. But he didn't; he left me alone in the stomach of the beast. <br/>Four looks down, shame radiating from every pore of his body.<br/>"I was afraid. I'm still afraid. " <br/>"I thought the Dauntless were supposed to conquer their fears. " I retort. <br/>"I know. I'm sorry. "<br/>"Dauntless don't apologise. "<br/>He glares at me, "Are you trying to make a point?"<br/>"I'm pissed at you. I'm pissed at Marcus and the crappy life I had to live. I'm sick of being so scared all the time. "</p>
<p>My heart pumps in my ears, hands shaking. This is the loudest I've been in a long time. The first time I've ever admitted to being so scared, instead of pushing him away to the back of my mind, pretending it doesn't exist; I'm just a normal little Abnegation living a normal Abnegation life. As if. My fairytale never could last for long; there'd always be a stab of pain from some injury or another, a shout from Marcus when I walked through the door. I guess I'm just as much to blame as Four for my situation - I could have told someone. But it would have been difficult to get someone to believe you when your demon is the leader of the city council. <br/>Four sighs. "I know. "<br/>“You know? You’ve been free of him for what, three years now? I bet he doesn’t visit you on visitation day. “ I bite my lip, afraid suddenly that I’ve gone too far, but there is no darkness surrounding Four, just a grey cloud fogging up my vision. And suddenly I’m afraid that he hates me; hates me for bringing that monster back into his life. <br/>“No, he doesn’t. But that’s because I’m his son; I publicly humiliated him when I left - he can’t be seen to affiliate with me. “ He pauses, refusing to make eye contact. “I don’t know why he came to visit you. “<br/>I don’t know what to say to that, so I stay silent. </p>
<p>“Why are we back in the infirmary?” The question has been bugging me for the last five minutes. “I’m fine, I don’t need to be here, my friends will be starting to worry. “ I start to push myself out of the bed, only to stop when I find an IV attached to my arm, reaching to pull it out. <br/>“No, wait. “ Embarrassment surrounds Four, and I wait for him to continue. “They...the nurse wants to keep you in a couple more hours. They’re flushing your system with antibiotics; the wounds...they got infected. That’s why you kept blacking out. “<br/>I don’t move, just glare at him. I’m in a hospital gown now, I notice, and, embarrassed, I sit back on the bed, refusing to look at him. <br/>“You knew, didn’t you?” He asks quietly. “You knew they weren’t healing right and you still didn’t try to get help. You just kept on with the training. “ He sounds disappointed, but there’s an undertone of something else. He didn’t expect me to behave any differently. <br/>His breath hitches again and I wait for him to speak. <br/>“Why didn’t you clean them? It’s not that hard, I’d have thought you’d have been used to it by now”. He winces at the last bit, aware of how terrible it sounds. And I snap. <br/>“Well, maybe it wasn’t so hard for you Mr ‘I’m Marcus Eaton’s son’ but when you’re locked in that room most of your life it makes it kind of hard to access that sort of stuff. “ <br/>I blush, avoiding lucking at him, aware that I’ve gone too far this time. That my outburst might have cost me. But he just stands up and walks away, a stone wall built between us again. <br/>“I’ll see you at training tomorrow. “<br/>And only once he’s gone do I finally break.</p>
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<a name="section0015"><h2>15. When We Fall Asleep Where Do We Go</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The nurse comes once an hour to check my bandages, and I give in and let her. I can’t hide my weakness anymore, so the least I can do is not make a bigger deal out of it. Ella visits with Seb clinging to her arm and I smirk, knowing this would happen, but when she asks what happened I just say that the simulation chemical caused an infection. I wouldn’t know how to begin telling them about Marcus, even after this long. I don’t want them to see me differently, don’t want the pity and embarrassment clinging to their words, so I just let the lies slip out, coating the air with their slick tar. The nurse lets me leave after two days and I’m grateful; I was getting restless holed up in the infirmary knowing training was still going on without me. I’ve had a lot of practice at being isolated, but now should be different. I shouldn’t have to cut myself off. </p>
<p>The overhead lights flicker on as I enter the dorm, everyone else already at training, and I make my way towards my bed; the red blanket pulled tight against the mattress. My hands shake when I see the bag on it though; I don’t know who would be leaving things on my bed so I can only presume it’s bad. A practical joke, or a note to say I’ve failed initiation and I need to leave now. The thought clouds my vision, blocking out the light, and I nearly don’t open the bag for fear of what it might contain. But I slow my breathing. In and out. And in and out. And in. And then I empty the bag out onto the red before I can think about it. A small white pot rolls across the blanket, falling off the side of the bed before I have chance to grab it. Sinking to my knees, I reach for it under my bed, trying to ignore the pain in my back. Even though it’s been over a month since those marks were made, they still haven’t healed yet. In fact, they feel almost as bad as they did all that time ago, but at least now I haven’t got the bite of infection eating away at me. At least now they feel like they might heal. If I let them. Heat flushes my cheeks as I remember Four’s earlier comments about it being my own fault I got an infection, and I try to push the thoughts out of my mind because he was right. I could have told anyone at any time, could have waltzed into the hospital and asked for, I don’t know, something, someone. Or I could have snuck some of the anti-bacterial gel out of the bathroom. I could have tried. But I didn’t. I’m still not sure why, but it doesn’t matter now because Marcus isn’t here. Marcus isn’t here. I repeat it like a mantra, as if by drilling it into my head will make it come true. I can do this. </p>
<p>I grab the white pot and stand up, unscrewing the lid and sniffing it before I even look at the label. It’s some kind of cream; the lemony scent forming starbursts in the air. I look back at the label and bite my lip. It’s a peace offering. Anti-bacterial cream designed to prevent wound infection. And although I’ve never tried before, although actually practicing self-care instead of letting my body be a punch bag is new to me, I make a vow. A vow that I will use this cream, but only until the cuts on my back have healed. I vow to never again let Marcus Eaton make me feel like I don’t deserve to be alive. Next time he comes near me, I am going to break his teeth. </p>
<p>My oath lasts less than a day. I’m back in the simulation, back with Marcus. Back on that bed, in that house; zip ties, and belts, and red smudges on the sheets. What’s the point of being free from Marcus if I still have to see him constantly in my head? Four says we’re going to practice against our worst fears a couple of times before moving onto our other ones in a effort to make them seem less scary. And sure, I see his logic, everything pales in comparison to Marcus, but he’s no longer just in the simulations, he’s in my head, in my dreams. I see him round corners and in crowds, getting lunch in the canteen, and standing by the chasm. None of them are real and yet I still cannot fight back. Freezing in fear time after time after time. And it’s not just me, no one else sleeps; the nights are full of voices, thrashing and shouting. Sinaya seems to be running on pure adrenaline, and Jude is spending more and more time away from the rest of the group. We are not growing stronger. Gradually, Four is breaking us. </p>
<p>I keep training, even though the physical part of initiation has ended. The leather punching bags split my knuckles, bruising my fingers, but it feels good to have an outlet for all the crap going on. If I can’t punch Marcus then I might as well hit the next best thing. Everyone seems to have their own way of dealing with it; Hope only sleeps in the daytime when the lights are on, Seb refuses to leave Ella's side which, whilst cute is a little bit clingy, and Em dyes her hair a new colour every few days. </p>
<p>I kick the bag one last time and head back to the dorms, hair plastered to my face, knuckles raw. I’m not expecting to see many people about; it’s late, and technically I’ve missed lights out. Not that that means much to a bunch of nightmare-induced initiates. I round a corner and yelp as my body slams into something bigger and harder than myself, hidden in the darkness. <br/>“Kat?”<br/>“Jude? What are you doing out so late?”<br/>“What? Oh...erm...” Her voice trails off, embarrassment seeping into the air. “I was just taking a walk. Couldn’t sleep. You?”<br/>“I was just training. Still need to keep up the little fitness I have.” <br/>Jude laughs, and I neither of us push the other about the real reasons I was punching things and Jude was walking around at night. It’s just a mutual understanding that some things are better left unsaid. We know each other will be there if we need to talk, and that’s what matters. </p>
<p>We enter the dorm silently, slipping off into our respective bunks. I know sleep will come. I can’t prevent it. But that also means Marcus. At least when we move onto our other fears I’ll only have to deal with him at night. I hope.</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. In Too Deep</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I want a tattoo.“<br/>My words surprise even myself when I say them aloud a couple of days later at breakfast. Everyone looks up from their conversations, surprised, I guess, because to them I’ll always be abnegation.<br/>“What of?” Ella asks. <br/>I pause, I hadn’t really thought this through. <br/>“I’m not too sure yet... any ideas?”<br/>“What about the Dauntless flames?” Seb suggests, pointing to a couple of the other initiates who have gotten the symbol tattooed recently. <br/>“Or a flower?” Ella wrinkles her nose at the snake on Seb neck, her hand wrapped in his, and Sinaya laughs. <br/>“As long as it’s nothing like Pelican’s then I think you’re all good. I’m not sure a giant bird across your chest would suit you. “<br/>“What do you think Jude?” Her expression is distant, her hands twisting round a bread roll as she stares into the distance over my shoulder. I turn to look, but there’s nothing there but the faction head and some of his faculty. <br/>“Jude?”<br/>“Hmm, what did you say sorry?” Her eyes flicker back to me, distracted, but the pink hue around her irises is unmistakeable. <br/>“What tattoo do you think I should get?”<br/>“Oh um, whatever you want I guess. “ Her eyes are back behind me again, her nails bitten down to the quick <br/>“Hey, are you okay?”<br/>“Yeah. Why?” She tears her gave back to me again and I shrug. <br/>“You’ve just seemed distant lately. I know the fear simulations aren’t great, but I’m here if you want to talk. About anything, not just training. “<br/>She smiles, hesitant, and I can tell there’s something else going on, but I don’t push it when she gets up and heads back to the dorm. She probably misses Callie, the two were very close. No one expected Callie to get cut. She got top marks in all our classes, but I suppose she was always built for erudite, and was never going to fit the Dauntless mould. I feel kind of bad that she felt she had to come with us instead of following her passion, but it’s not like the rest of us got Dauntless in the aptitude test. Well, not exactly. And I guess the only reason Ella scored high enough to get through the first round of training was because of Micah, but we all knew we weren’t built for this. We knew it would be hard, but it would have been the same wherever we’d gone. No one wanted to join abnegation luckily, and I absolutely refused to join Candor. Honesty about my past and Marcus was not going to do me any favours. Callie and Sinaya didn’t really want to join Amity either. Callie thought they were all idiots, which isn’t true, but Callie is a genius and harvesting crops all day was probably going to get boring. However, the same thing was true with Erudite; whilst Callie, Jude, and I would have been happy there, Sinaya and Ella didn’t want to study all day. Dauntless was our compromise. But it didn’t work out so great. I can only hope we don’t lose anyone else along the way. </p><p>“New training system.” Four announces once we’ve all gathered in the simulation room. “We’ve moves on from your primary fear and you will now be facing your other ones. For some of you this may mean a couple of other fears that repeat themselves, whilst for others it may be an endless list. It doesn’t matter how many fears you have, only that you managed to overcome fear itself. “<br/>The room responds with silence, grateful we no longer have to experience our darkest terrors everyday, but afraid of what we may be faced with instead. Jude's face is pinched, and Sinaya is back to biting her nails, not that there’s much left for her to bite. <br/>“Who wants to go first?” <br/>No one moves. We know that this, like jumping off the roof when we first got here, is a test, but still no one is willing. Not even me. The silence grows bigger, expanding to fit the gaps between our bodies, beating against our eardrums and pouring tar down our throats. It’s overpowering, and I’m not sure how long it will be until someone breaks. </p><p>“Hey! What did I tell you about snooping through my shit!” The voice shatters the silence, and I flinch, preparing for the shards to fly at me, to cut me open and watch me bleed. But nothing happens. The voices continue to shout outside the training room, their words indistinct now, and I catch Four’s eyes on me, but I ignore him; I’ve accepted his peace offering, but I still haven’t forgiven him for all those years he let me bleed in that house. I’m not sure if that’s something I can ever forgive him for. The voices rise again, and all around me ears prick up, anything to avoid facing our fears.<br/>“This is what you’ve been doing since you broke up with Gina? Really Stefan? And you thought we wouldn’t notice.”<br/>“Watch your mouth, if you want to keep your job. My personal life is private; it has nothing to do with you, or the council. If I want to date her I can; I’m in charge around here.”<br/>My mouth drops open at that, surprise rolling through the air on a cloud of blue fog. This is the faction head shouting outside our training room. Some part of me knows we shouldn’t listen, but even Four is engrossed, the class forgotten as we wait for the next distinguishable communication.<br/>“How long has it been going on for then? Was she even legal when you started? Because looking at her records it doesn’t look like it.”<br/>There’s a thud as someone’s shoved against the wall, and I hold my breath, the proximity of the violence freezing my muscles, rooting me in place. In the fight or flight scenario, all I can do is freeze, black ice creeping up my legs, along my fingers as my heart struggles to keep pace.<br/>“Of course she was legal, don’t you ever, ever let me hear you saying that again. Not if you want to keep your job. Not if you want to stay in my faction. You hear me?”<br/>My breath hitches, and the panic sets in, blinding me for a second.<br/>“I didn’t hear you. I said, do you understand?” His voice thunders through the room and I cower, waiting for the lightening strike.<br/>“Yes sir.”<br/>“Good. Now go delete that footage before I delete you.”<br/>Silence. After a couple of seconds I manage to turn to my friends. That’s when I notice that all the colour has leached from Jude's face, tears brimming in her eyes.<br/>“What’s wrong?” I ask.<br/>“Are you okay?” Ella asks simultaneously.<br/>Jude shakes her head slowly, tears running down her cheeks.<br/>“It’s all my fault.”</p>
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<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Gossip</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“It started just after I had that extra initiation fight,” Jude whispers miserably, “he stayed with me whilst I was unconscious in the hospital, and visited me a few times. I thought he felt bad and was coming to check I was doing okay. And he was, and we kind of got to know each other a bit, and started bumping into each other round the compound, but it was never like we were just friends. “ She pauses to glance round at us; Four had cancelled training and we were sat in some dead end corridor, listening to Jude explain what had been going on. <br/>“And we kept bumping into each other, but it definitely wasn’t accidentally anymore. He would always be around after training, and I’d take detours to the leadership section of the compound in case he was about. I know it seems silly, but I really like him. And I think he likes me too. “<br/>“Why didn’t you tell us any of this sooner?” Sinaya asks, her candid instinct kicking in. <br/>“I wanted to.” Jude blushes, looking down. “I’ve never lied and kept secrets before, but it just felt private, you know, and I didn’t want to worry any of you. I’m sorry. “<br/>Sinaya frowns, still offended but doesn’t say anymore. <br/>“What happened next?”<br/>“One time we were walking together after he’d finished a meeting and we’d ended up outside his flat. He asked if I wanted to go inside. And I said yes. “ She pauses, and stares at our expressions. Ella’s mouth has dropped open, and Sinaya is staring at her like she’s gone crazy. I’m just about to ask if I’m missing something huge here when Jude breaks the silence. <br/>“Wait, no, we didn’t, do it then. “ she blushes “we just talked, ate pizza, it was fun. “<br/>“Wait,” Sinaya interrupts, “what do you mean you didn’t do it then? “ <br/>“You mean you’ve done it?” Ella squeals, her bow nearly falling off in excitement. <br/>“Well, yeah. It was alright. “ Jude runs her hand through her hair, embarrassed. <br/>“Wait,” confusion fills the air, puffs of grey smoke blocking my view. “What is it ? I don’t understand. “<br/>Jude blushes again, looking down, and Ella looks at me like I’ve gone mental. Sinaya, however, is upfront. <br/>“Sex. Jude’s had sex. “<br/>“Oh. “ That makes sense I guess, but I always thought sex was a ritual thing, something that happened only once you were married, and only with the intention of having children. It didn’t occur to me that it might be for fun, but I suppose that’s the abnegation talking. <br/>“Well, did you have a nice time?” I wrinkle my nose and laughter crackles around me as my friends smile. <br/>“Sure,” Jude’s eyes crease, “I had a nice time. “ She smiles properly then, and I’m glad she’s happier now than she was earlier. <br/>“Oh sugar!” Ella exclaims suddenly, glancing at her watch. “I was supposed to meet Seb ten minutes ago, I better run. I’ll see you later!” She dashes off in a whirlwind of turquoise and rose to what I assume is a date. <br/>“What happens now?” Sinaya asks Jude, threading her fingers through her dark hair. <br/>“I don’t know... I guess I’ll just play it by ear, leave it a few days before I go see him again, I don’t want to draw attention to us. That is, if he still wants to be with me. “ <br/>“Hey, we all heard the argument and he sounded pretty protective of you; I’m sure it will all be fine. “<br/>“She’s right.” Sinaya stands up, stretching out her arms, “he sounded pretty into you. “ she yawns, readjusting her glasses. “Why don’t we go get ice cream? We can spy on Ella and Seb from across the Pit. “<br/>I laugh, getting up too as light sparkles on the walls. That sounded fun. We pull Jude up too, and together head back down the corridor in the opposite mood to when we came up it.</p>
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<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Cake Solves Everything</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“He’s such a douche-bag!” Ella exclaims, throwing her arms up in anguish.”I see him all day every day, and then he accuses me of deserting him because I’m ten minutes late for our date! He even started crying, because, quote unquote, ‘without me there his life is pointless and he might as well become factionless.’ Like, what the hell?” She threw up her arms again, and I resist laughing. Yes, Ella’s complaint is fair, but, due to her growing up Amity, I’ve never actually seen her get frustrated before. <br/>“Have you tried explaining all of this to him?” I ask from where I’m squashed between Sinaya and a wall in a booth in the Pit. <br/>“I’ve tried telling him that I don’t have to spend every second of the day with him, but then he gets defensive and tries to make it my fault. He says that without me there he gets paranoid that I’ve died or that I don’t love him anymore. He said love for crying out loud. We’ve only been dating a month! I don’t love him!” She collapses back into her seat next to Jude, who is sipping a chocolate milkshake, watching Ella silently.<br/>“I just don’t know what to do,” Ella sighs, “He seems to think I belong to him, and he’s so clingy it’s unbearable. I just wanted a nice normal relationship, not someone who wants to be attached to my hip constantly.” She sniffs, “A relationship isn’t supposed to be like this is it? Jude?” She turns to the one person sat here who’s ever actually been in a relationship, expectant. Coughing into her milkshake, Jude looks up, not having expected the conversation to take this turn. <br/>“Um, I don’t think so. With me and …um… him, we don’t see each other for days at a time sometimes. A relationship is all about trust, otherwise it will fall apart. If Seb can’t handle not being with you for 5 minutes, then I don’t think he’s ready to be in a relationship at all.” A hand flies to Jude’s mouth, as if she can’t believe she just said that, panicked that Ella might take offense, but Ella just nods thoughtfully. <br/>“You’re right. Yes, I like him, but I can’t give him what he wants, it’s not fair on me. I want to live my life without being dragged down by him. I didn’t expect it to be like this.”<br/>Sinaya stops eating her chocolate cake, pensive for a moment.<br/>“Why don’t you give it a bit longer? This is all new to him too, although he is being a dick. I think you need to show him that you don’t belong to him. Avoid him for a bit. Show him that you have a life outside of him, and maybe he should have a life outside of you. Either he’ll snap out of it, or he’ll get so possessive that dumping him won’t be a tough decision.”<br/>“Isn’t that a bit mean?” I ask, twirling my straw in my milkshake. “Surely it will only make his paranoia worse?”<br/>Sinaya laughs darkly. “Honestly, I’m not sure I believe him. Everyone’s in a pretty shitty place right now with the simulations, but it strikes me a bit weird that his deepest darkest fear is losing the girl he’s been dating for like a month. It felt like five minutes ago that he was obsessed with Em. If he can switch between ‘true loves’ that easily, I’m not sure I trust he’s being completely honest. No offense Ella.”<br/>Ella shrugs, unhappiness creasing her brow.<br/>“He’s always been like it. I can’t remember a time since we were 14 when he’s not had a crush on someone. It’s just that no one’s ever agreed to date him before. To be honest, I’m not even sure how long it’s going to be before he decides he loves someone else.”<br/>“Give him a bit longer.” I suggest. “It might get better. You can always ditch him if you realize that’s definitely what you want.”<br/>Ella nods. “Okay. I’m going to get more cake. Cake fixes everything!”</p>
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